


flight

by lisettedelapin



Category: Free!
Genre: Australia, First Time, Friendship, Introspection, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Olympics, Switching, as there are very long parts scattered throughout dedicated to, detailing rin's non-romo bonds with the other important people in his life, i should clarify that australia and long-distance are tags that don't apply for the entire fic!!, if you're looking for a fic that's solely rh romance, just as a heads up! c:, this probably isn't for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisettedelapin/pseuds/lisettedelapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Haru…” Rin starts. And then he says it again, “Haru, <i>Haru.</i>” And then he’s imagining saying it on an international stage, reading it aloud from lit up letters and newspaper headlines, letting it float from his mouth with the clink of champagne flutes – light as all those bubbles, warm as the pride he will see in Makoto’s eyes. He imagines the syllables of Nanase Haruka leading or following that of Matsuoka Rin. And everything is as it should be.</p><p>(a record of affection, both taken and given)</p>
            </blockquote>





	flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAmaretto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAmaretto/gifts).



> THIS FIC IS AN EXTREMELY BELATED (as in an entire ten days late...i'm so sorry) BIRTHDAY GIFT TO A RADIANT YOUNG SPARKLE CHERRY BLOSSOM WHO GOES BY THE NAME OF [CHERRY ASSQUILL](www.assquill.tumblr.com)!! please shower her with love and affection because she deserves it <33
> 
> i'm so sorry if i got anything wrong in terms of the olympic stuff! feel free to tell me if that's the case as i wasn't entirely confident in the details. c:

The first time Rin kisses Haru, they’re on the aeroplane ride home from Australia. 

Haru is fast asleep against his shoulder and distantly, Rin is wondering what land or ocean stretches under the heavy cast of clouds amongst them. Outside his half shuttered window, the sky is pitch, and at the thought that Nagisa might pretend they were winding through space, Rin can’t quite help the fond upwards twitch at the corners of his mouth. He imagines that Nagisa would be fearless in the face of it. He’d stretch his arms and the stars would welcome him, reaching for his fingertips, and for an instant, Rin feels a touch of envy-tinged admiration towards Nagisa for being able to float where Rin feels the need to prove his footing on solid ground. He wonders now about the time zones slipping behind him and there’s a weight that pins his heart when he realises it won’t be long until he sets his watch back to Australian Eastern Standard Time; that there will be a sense of finality to the action. He’s returning to Japan now so his mother and sister and all of his friends will know to anticipate just when he leaves once again. Already, he can’t help but miss every one of them.

Haru feels so much heavier against him than before. Rin shifts as gently as possible, to glance down at Haru’s closed eyes, the assured rise and fall of his chest. It’s involuntary when Rin’s breath leaves him on a sigh at the sight.

This time, it’ll be different when he leaves. He’s so determined for it to be different that he already knows it will be. There’s a tentative shifting inside of him to give way to all he has buried as well as make room for what is new. It’s old when he feels nothing but fascination at the thought of leaning a touch closer to Haru. It’s new when he lets the skip of his pulse carry him forward to brush his lips against the silk of Haru’s hair. The pressure is so light that the contact teeters between being so much and nothing at all. Rin’s chest feels taut when he lets his heart tip it firmly to meaning everything.

He’s testing the weight of the word ‘leaving’ on his tongue but all he can taste is reunion. He’s never before understood the meaning of bittersweet so easily.

~

The second time Rin kisses Haru (but really, maybe it’s Haru kissing Rin) it’s not like before. The first time, the height of the plane had hushed the weight of Rin’s feelings into settling softer, sweeter.

This time, Haru sets a plate of mackerel in front of Rin and when Rin only stares at the fish like it’s a 1000 piece puzzle, Haru curls his fingers into his palms and speaks.

“That’s a thank you…for now, at least,” he says, nodding towards the mackerel.

 _‘For what?’_ is Rin’s first thought, but Haru is frowning, his body held tight like he is trying to draw something from the pit of his stomach, and so Rin picks up his chopsticks and shovels a generous portion of fish into his mouth; it’s as close as he can get to assuring Haru of his presence here.

He’s reaching for his glass of water when Haru speaks again.

“I decided I want to swim pro,” Haru says, slowly, as if he is trying to lay belief in each word as it leaves his mouth; as if he hasn’t just set shockwaves rippling from here to his future – Rin’s future – _their_ future.

“Haru…” Rin starts. And then he says it again, “Haru, _Haru._ ” And then he’s imagining saying it on an international stage, reading it aloud from lit up letters and newspaper headlines, letting it float from his mouth with the clink of champagne flutes – light as all those bubbles, warm as the pride he will see in Makoto’s eyes. He imagines the syllables of Nanase Haruka leading or following that of Matsuoka Rin. And everything is as it should be.

“Holy shit,” he chokes, his fingers shaking as he sets his glass back down on the table. He gulps and he feels like his throat is trembling as he tries to pull at least one coherent thought from the dizzy tangle orbiting his head. It’s like he’s watching static set to the noise of a monsoon. All he can do for now is let out a winded sounding laugh, touching his fingers to where his mouth has stretched in a grin and he thinks he can see a tiny smile tug at the corners of Haru’s mouth as well.

Rin could say ‘ _of course’_ or ‘ _that’s amazing!’_ or ‘ _I want to see you fight for all that this world can give you._ ’

Instead, what comes out his mouth is: “Haru, I could legitimately kiss you right now.” 

Rin’s stomach drops instantly. It’d been so offhand, so easy that it makes the ensuing silence all the more painful.

The problem is that he doesn’t know whether or not he wants to snatch the words back. Initially, Haru’s eyebrows shoot straight up and Rin wants to stab himself with his chopsticks just to give them a distraction. But then he can track the dwindling of Haru’s surprise; his expression settling as his eyes cool. Haru doesn’t look disgusted in the slightest, but instead almost contemplative and Rin wishes more than ever that for once he could know what on Earth goes through Haru’s head.

“Teeth,” Haru says. Out of nowhere. And Rin, ears burning, is about to ask what he’s talking about when Haru speaks again. “Your teeth might be an issue.” And Rin is appalled by the short, serene nod Haru gives afterwards.

“First of all,” Rin lets his fists fall to rest on the table, leaning towards Haru before he continues. “First of all, it’s completely possible to kiss someone without teeth getting in the way. I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be more lips than teeth.”

Haru raises an eyebrow, his chin coming to rest against his palm.

“And secondly, what the actual _fuck_ , Haru. I have great control over my teeth.”

Haru hums at that, impassive in the face of Rin’s scowling mouth, Rin’s clenched fists. He seems to take a moment, like he’s turning the words over in his head.   “Okay,” he says, before rising to walk around the table to stand beside Rin. Rin watches him all the while through cautiously narrowed eyes.

His heart jump-starts when Haru drops to his knees and then his breath catches in his throat when Haru leans towards him, all cool focus. He feels Haru’s fingers find his chin and now they’re close enough for Rin to be able to see where the hairs grow sparser along the thick line of his lashes. His cheeks burn as Haru just barely purses his lips, like he’s trying to solve a riddle before he blinks his gaze up to Rin’s eyes, carrying all the light of a question. In answer, Rin moves forward. And he knows exactly what is happening when Haru moves his hand to cup Rin’s cheek, the distance between them closing with zero fanfare as Haru presses his lips to Rin’s. The touch still freezes him to the core.

When the pressure lightens, Haru moving back only enough to no longer be kissing Rin, there’s a weary sort of electricity coursing under Rin’s skin. And it catches him off guard, how badly he wants to shock Haru as well. So he fists his hands into the fabric of Haru’s shirt and returns to him in the only way he can – surging forward like a current.

And it’s nothing like stealing whispered kisses on an aeroplane because this time, Rin doesn’t ache. This time dusk is spreading outside Haru’s window and it’s not a haze of blue and sleepy light so much as it is the richest purple Rin has ever known, stars blinking so sharply Rin feels like they’d press cuts into his palms if they were to fall into his hands. The night seeps past the windows, breaching the walls and curling cold around Haru and him so they kneel exposed to each other; trembling like leaves in one another’s grasp.

Rin closes his eyes and parts his lips only to feel Haru’s breath slip between them.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he is the one that gets bitten.

~

His time in Australia is nothing like how it was when he was a kid. It’s odd how despite being better at keeping his emotions in check, he feels everything hit him so much deeper. There are nights in the dark of his flat where he finds himself scared to fall asleep, certain that he will wake to be a ghost once again. What frightens him the most is how easily he’d accepted that life only two years back; bleeding himself out in the hope that his body could function solely as a home for ambition’s wolfish shadow. Eventually he’d learnt that numbness was a feeling in itself, one that spread slow and thick like tar; hot enough to turn his heart to vapour in his chest.

It’s impossible to close your fingers around smoke.

Rin tries not to dwell on fear; it’s in his nature to move before it can wind its way around his ankles. But he wonders now and then, and it’s hard not to be terrified, of what might have become of him had he not moved back to Iwatobi.

He’d returned feeling stifled and hollow all at once yet still, his friends had managed to bury seeds in his chest. He’d felt them in little pangs initially, so instead he worked on being cold enough to freeze his vapour heart. Finally, Rei had come to him and Haru had fought for him; chipping away the ice until Makoto and Nagisa could give him their warmth, melt the last of Rin’s jagged edges.

Slowly, Rin had thawed. He’d felt water and sunlight give way to fresh roots and this time, it had been all too easy to leave a part of him with every person he loved.

Now, alone in his Sydney flat or caught in the downtime of a perpetually shitty public transport system, he misses them dearly. But there’s happiness too; there’s shy light in the reminders that each of them hold onto what little he could give. And he thinks that whoever thought of the sentiment of heartstrings tugging must’ve lived away from the ones they loved.

He does things right this time around. When his heartstrings pluck lamentations, he listens, polishes and tries to shift the melody.

He calls his mum every night, unprompted, to tell her the details of his day, his plans for the next. He asks her what it is she drops in with the laundry to make their clothes smell so nice (like home, he wants to say), how many days he can keep meat in the fridge, what to consider when picking fresh produce. Matsuokas have tough skin, both of them know this well, but Rin still does his best to alleviate every unspoken concern his mother might worry between her teeth.  He tells her he loves her. Everyday. And he hopes that it makes up for all the times he forgot to in the past.

He lets Nagisa send him links to bizarre videos; reacts with the appropriate amount of horror and sometimes, at 3am, gives in and returns the favour by directing Nagisa to Awesome Fail Compilations and Drunk Ice skating. He lets Nagisa call him Rin-chan; slowly, _slowly_ comes around to indulging him and signing off messages with a single ‘x’. In what little ways he can manage, he does his best to reassure Nagisa that he is there, that he is receiving the ridiculous amount of love that Nagisa bestows upon him and he is happy to hold it.

Rei becomes an odd source of support. He’s perceptive, always managing to pick out the right moment to remind Rin to search for a new angle; a fresh slant of light. It catches him off-guard, how easily he falls into trusting Rei; ignoring the backspace bar when he feels like his vulnerability is slipping. Rei handles him with the utmost respect, with unflinching earnestness and genuine curiosity. When the water feels heavier, he thinks of Rei’s devotion to whatever task he might undertake, and suddenly pushing through the depths makes Rin feel strong again. In turn, Rin tries to inform Rei, hint by hint and through more than backhanded insults, of how admirable he is; of the gratitude Rin holds and the faith that it is by no means misplaced.

Really, he should expect regular correspondence with Makoto, but it still never fails to surprise him when he opens his inbox to find a fortnightly enquiry of how Rin is holding up, followed by a detailed rundown of how everyone else has been. Of course, even in Tokyo, Makoto would work to keep tabs on each of his friends; he is, after all, a boy of links and connections, and it’s the warmest of aches for Rin to know he is a part of that group. Often, Rin finds himself sending two separate replies – one email addressing all that Makoto details, and another with no more than the simple question of how Makoto is doing. It is the least Rin can do to provide an opening; to push Makoto to loosen his ironclad grip on his wants, needs and concerns.

For Sousuke, Rin cannot help but worry. He doesn’t expect Sousuke to go pro. He knows this just as surely as he believes with every single fiber of his being that Sousuke is capable of going pro should he choose. Rin meant it when he said he would wait – he’s willing to try and school himself in the art of patience, will welcome Sousuke without an iota of surprise, with a drumbeat pounding joy from his heart. But how does Rin begin to explain that that’s not it; that he will wait through anything because Sousuke will always have a place beside him. He tries to trace their conversations sometimes, tries to pinpoint the moments where Sousuke began to think that Rin existed as someone to reach as opposed to someone who was already there. And slowly, he’s been learning that for as fiercely as he feels every word from his mouth, they are not always the truth another person needs. So for Sousuke, he resolves to learn.

They keep in touch; Rin is the first person to know when Sousuke decides he wants to take a gap year ( _“to figure things out”_ ). Rin thinks that makes perfect sense. After all, Sousuke has spent so much of himself mourning his dreams, chasing Rin; now it is important for him to draw time to his chest and look at what surrounds him.

And this time, when Rin thinks of Sousuke at the tail end of an ocean, he calls. He does all that he can to make Sousuke know that he wants to see those surroundings as well.

Gou makes him feel guilty. Gou makes him prouder than the sun must feel watching over every miniscule star around it. The fact that he is missing her final year of high school, just as he had missed her final year of elementary school, too many birthdays, piano recitals and her brief stint in dance, is not lost on him. Rin gets the impression that he will never stop regretting making her worry for him. And in a way, he is indebted to her; had it not been for her knowing that what he needed was to reconnect with his friends, he isn’t sure just where he would be today. His baby sister is the smartest, brightest most brilliant person he can think of and somehow, she managed to hold out hoping for him. He remembers hiding fake spiders under her sheets, holding bobby pins between his teeth while brushing her hair. He remembers poking at her bruises and trapping fireflies in jars; watching her eyes light up after telling her they were catching winged stars. And it’s the worst blow to his gut to realise just how magnificently he fucked up being a good big brother. But Rin is learning to grow from his shortfalls; he is so determined now to be there as best as he possibly can for her.

Gou is the only one he sends letters – their almost identical scrawl being the closest he can get to giving her some measure of his physical presence.

And then there is Haru. Haru teaches Rin just how daunting it is to say, “I miss you.” Those words can be so intimate; the mere thought of them has Rin choking on his longing. It’s frightening, how saying something so simple might betray waking up at 6am and wondering what Haru will do today, passing the pool and seeing a hint of black hair or a whisper of the clean way his stroke looks. The truth is, Haru’s absence registers to Rin like ocean water without salt. And really, that makes it all the more important to tell him. 

It’s during skype calls, Haru coiling the wires of his headphones around his fingers, that Rin thinks _fuck_ and _shit_ and _I love you_ while trying desperately to summon his courage and order the right words on his tongue.

The day he manages it, they’re both falling asleep across the line. Haru’s hair is wet from bathing and his shoulders look broader from his training regime, and Rin has just finished telling him that he saw a koala the other day and he named it Haru because it looked like Haru when his heart twists in his chest and his breath stops short in his throat because God, _God,_ he misses Haru so much he wants to rush out the door and hop on the first aeroplane to Tokyo.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little hoarse, heart fluttering like the wings of a caught bird.

Through Rin’s speakers, Haru hums in response. Over the screen, he raises his tired gaze to Rin’s face.

“Miss you, Haru.”

The winding line of space from where Rin is to Haru seems to grow and rise and buzz in front of Rin, until he hears Haru swallow, watches a sad, little upwards twitch at one corner of his mouth.

And Haru’s voice is quiet, but it hushes the cities and state lines and rolling oceans between them when he glances at Rin and says, “It’s strange without you here.”

It’s a slow process but Rin is persistent. He nurtures his love for his friends and his family. And gradually, in the distance between Australia and Japan, Rin makes amends.

~

Haru trains hard. Even while in Australia, Rin is there every step of the way. They take turns shaving milliseconds from their times, arms stretching a touch faster, breakthroughs of energy in fits and bursts slowly becoming the norm. Haru works his way up through various tournaments; gradually carves a name for himself out of the ease in which he carves through the water. Makoto remarks over the phone that Haru has, after all, always been artistically inclined and Rin can’t help but laugh, before the sound gives way to an amplified emptiness and he’s filled to the brim with just how badly he misses them both.

He plans his first visit back to surprise Haru after one of his tournaments. It’s exactly the sort of romantic, spontaneous thing that has him grinning before he falls asleep. Makoto tells him that this tournament will be slightly bigger – with more media coverage and harsher competition. He’s delighted to help Rin sort out the details of his trip, happy to be sworn to secrecy. They talk like they’re special agents and it’s silly but it’s all too easy to be swept by it when Rin thinks of what Haru’s expression will look like when he turns up, unannounced.

Maybe it’s worth being away to come back.

It's odd how in the past, he could never see Tokyo as home – Tokyo is light and bustle and roads running like veins to wards and districts; stalks and offshoots. Iwatobi might as well have been a terrarium in comparison. But Rin finds that living overseas changes the way one reads a map. Cities switch to pinpricks and state divides diminish when Rin can walk his fingers across the ocean. Japan used to be huge, a world in itself; but here it is reduced to sushi and bonsai and Toyota automobiles. Here, _away_ , Rin learns to believe that the Earth’s surface truly is 71% water.

Japan becomes _“back home._ ”Not Iwatobi, not even Tottori. Rin plants home in a flag, in the odd cherry-blossom tree; in language and food and his name signed _“back-to-front, ‘ay?”_

He realises this in the airport, where the wave of people surrounding him ebbs first by terminal and then by gate. He’s sitting in his seat when he overhears a family talking about Shikoku and it hits him how odd it is for pride to swell in his chest at the mention when he’s never been there in his life.

When he sets foot in Tokyo, when he stops having to convert numbers in his head, and the sound of English tumbles back into striking him as discordant; he relaxes without realising he’d been tense in the first place. Japan is his – and when he steps outside the airport, he already feels as if he has reached his mother and sister, Sousuke, Nagisa, Rei, Makoto and Haru.

He can’t keep the grin off his face the entire way to Haru’s apartment. _Haru._ Haru is right there, no longer sharing an ocean with Rin but instead, the very land under his feet.  And the tournament is the last thing on Rin’s mind because suddenly he feels the time they’ve spent apart lifting like it had been a physical thing; now, he thinks he’s never been so featherweight in his life. It’s nighttime but the glow of lights and stars burn like multitudes of miniature suns, the breeze bends him like he’s a part of it – and there is not a single question of Rin being exactly where he should be.

The closer he gets to Haru’s address, the more he hurries, until he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot inside Haru’s apartment complex, trying to decide whether it’d be faster to use the lift or the stairs. In the end, he picks the stairs; racing up two at a time to get to Haru’s door, where he ignores the buzzer to pound on its surface instead. He’s already smiling, chest tight, Haru’s name ready to burst from him and then the door flies open and Rin barely has a second to register the perfect way Haru’s eyes widen before he’s crossing the threshold and trying not to choke, his arms aching in the most beautiful manner when he snatches Haru in a bone-crushing hug.

“ _Rin?_ ”

Rin laughs, the sound rising from him in a way that makes him feel like his chest is sparkling and he can feel the tears pricking at his eyes but he can’t begin to give a shit because he’s never heard his name uttered so perfectly in his life. He lifts Haru off the ground, just barely, before setting him down again and elbowing the door closed.

“Surprise,” he says, voice rough, eyes bright.  

Haru sticks his hand out in a daze, his fingers touching Rin’s chest before his eyes widen and Rin wonders what he’s doing until Haru draws his gaze up to Rin’s. He’s looking at Rin like an apparition; Rin watches his throat work and he wants nothing more than to wrap his hands around the fingers still pressed to his chest.

“You haven’t forgotten what I look like already, have you?” Rin laughs, even as he takes in Haru’s wider shoulders, the fabric of his pajamas.

“I think you’re the only being in the world capable of smiling with the teeth of an apex-predator and still looking like a fool.”  Haru turns his head, but Rin catches the way his eyes flick back to Rin’s face, the smile tugging at his lips.

 _‘Whose_ _fault is that?’_ Rin thinks and sure enough, he’s only grinning wider.

Haru looks up at him once more, before turning to move out of the entryway, and so Rin toes off his shoes and follows Haru into the apartment, the feeling of walking in a dream leaving haze at his heels.

“You’re staying the night,” Haru says, eyeing the bag slung over Rin’s shoulder.

And Rin balks because he can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question, and despite seeing Haru’s apartment countless times over skype calls, it’s just hit him that Haru is essentially living in a single room with a couple of frills. He shifts his weight, his bag feeling about ten times more awkward, and lets his mouth work around an answer he doesn’t actually yet have.

“Rin?”

Rin stares, hoping he doesn’t look as helpless as he feels.

“What are you doing here?”

Rin thinks that’s a very good question. “Your tournament was today…I didn’t want to miss it by too much.” He swallows around the ‘ _I missed you’_ lodged in his throat.“It’s been a really long time, Haru.”

Haru stills completely. He’s looking at Rin when he speaks. “You can stay,” he says, and it’s quiet but it’s not mumbled and Rin is taking it as the closest thing to an invitation he’s ever heard from Haru. So he sets his bag down and tells his lungs that it’s okay to relax.

And he’s fine until the technicalities of this situation brick him in the head. “Uh…Haru…how do I sleep?”

Haru raises an eyebrow. “You close your eyes and wait.”

“No,” Rin hisses. “ _Where_ do I sleep?”

Haru’s mouth drops in a tiny ‘o’ shape before his expression transitions to something equal parts unimpressed and confused. “The bed, Rin. Where else would you sleep?”

Rin lets out a noise that errs closer to being an exclamation of “mrrrgh!” than any actual word.

“Is that a problem?” Haru asks and Rin is a little in awe of how it’s possible to make concern sound so challenging.

He finds himself wondering if Haru really understands even a fraction of the gravity of Rin’s feelings for him. “If it’s a problem for you, then yeah it is,” Rin says, carefully. And there’s boldness hidden under the diplomacy of such a statement; he thinks Makoto would be proud.

“Of course it’s not,” Haru says, frowning slightly.

Rin softens. “Well then it’s not a problem,” he says, nodding. At that, he draws in every shred of shyness coiling its way round his nerves and tries to summon the confidence Haru expects from him. It makes it a little easier for him to cross the room and flop down onto Haru’s bed.

He hears a huff from Haru’s direction and he can’t help but smile into the pillow in front of him.

“Did you just come here to sleep? You could at least change into pajamas,” Haru sighs.

The hours Rin spent cramped up in his aeroplane chair are settling into a tired ache in all of his muscles. “Bag’s too far. And of course we’re not going to sleep yet. There’s a lot you need to catch me up on but I don’t see any other seating arrangements so we might as well chat here.”

Rin hears dull footsteps before the lights cut out. He’s on the brink of falling asleep but the mere mention of pajamas is enough to make him irritatingly aware of the scratchy denim of his jeans. He grunts, deciding to compromise by stripping to his boxers and pulling Haru’s quilt up to his chin with an easy sigh.

“Did you just take your clothes off?”

“I’m wearing boxers,” Rin mutters into his pillow.

“And yet everyone says I’m the nudist.”

Rin snorts. “You don’t even take your jammers off when you’re having a bath.”  
  
“You’d think that would occur to them. Nagisa’s the one most likely to take everything off.”

Rin laughs at that, and there’s an ease between them until the weight of the bed dips. He feels the soft cotton of Haru’s pajama pants brush against his leg, and it’s impossible to laugh around the way his heart is seizing.

“You’ve barely been here five minutes and you’ve already made yourself at home,” Haru says.  
  
How does Rin even begin to articulate how despite that not being the case, he wishes it were true more than anything. He swallows thickly before turning over to lie on his back. “Feels like I might never have left in the first place.”

“No,” Haru says. “It’s not like that.”

Rin frowns, turning his head to face Haru. He doesn’t know what to expect but in the dark, he can just barely make out the downturn of Haru’s lips. “What’s it like, then?”

Haru’s brows knit. “Last break when we visited Iwatobi, Nagisa said he missed you and Makoto said you’d be back as soon you could. Rei told him that it’s a difficult feeling to get past because absence itself has a presence.”

Rin can’t find it in himself to feel guilty, not when he’s remembering being alone during the nights in Sydney and now, with Haru next to him, it’s like he’s just had the dust cleared from his airways. “Rei’s right,” he says, smiling sadly at Haru’s ceiling. “Rei is always right.”

“You’re here,” Haru says; so simply that it rattles the breath in Rin’s chest.

He wants Haru to ask him if he missed him, if only so he can say that yes, he did. Every single day. Instead, he clears his throat. “How’d you go at the tournament?”

He thinks he can hear a smile in Haru’s voice.

“Silver in the 100 metre but it was a personal best. Makoto should start a screamo band.”

Rin laughs, grinning easily, the ever-present pride he harbours towards Haru rising. “Win gold next time. I’m gonna be creeping up on you soon,” he says, and he turns towards Haru only to come face to face with fingers hovering by his mouth.

“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Haru says before his fingertip grazes Rin’s bottom lip and Rin’s smile falls into a soft sound of surprise. “Smile again,” Haru says, an odd sort of determination colouring his voice.

“Wh—“  
  
“Just now. Your teeth. They’re always blurry on your webcam.”

“Oh,” Rin manages, his heart twisting though he can’t place why. “You never mentioned it.”

“There wasn’t a reason to.”  
  
Rin thinks that there was every reason to. “Haru, you know I want you to tell me anything? Anything that comes to mind. That’s worth something. I don’t…I don’t tell you often but I miss you.”

Haru presses the pad of his index finger to the point of Rin’s teeth and Rin’s breath leaves him in a rush before he stills completely.

“Haru?” he whispers after a moments passing.

“It’s good,” Haru says, his voice distant enough to make Rin want to drag it closer. “It’s good to see you smile.”

There’s a charge those words set off in the air that makes it more difficult for Rin to breathe; his throat tightening when he looks at Haru to find his gaze steady, frighteningly opaque. It’s too warm now and it’s dangerous how Rin only wants to swathe himself further in the heat. He needs to move, needs to swallow the air Haru doesn’t keep under his control; pry himself from the way Haru draws him in without trying.

“Rin…”

Except that’s not true at all because Rin knows that Haru is trying, that every word from his mouth comes with a measure of dim certainty – deliberately picked as the most important, regardless of whether or not Haru can articulate why. Haru is moving closer now and Rin feels like his chest is splitting open when he feels Haru drag his finger away, letting it snag on Rin’s bottom lip before the touch is gone. He watches Haru’s eyes flutter half closed and then he’s leaning over and they’re kissing and Rin wonders how they’ve only ever done this once; how he managed to survive so many months without doing it again.

It’s a sluggish connection when Rin recognises the taste of toothpaste on Haru’s tongue, but it gives way to the sharp hooking of his gut when he realises that _shit,_ they’re kind of making out right now. He’s running on instinct when his fingers tangle into Haru’s hair, pulling at it even while he tries to crowd into Haru’s space. Haru gasps into his mouth, hands skittering across Rin’s back and tugging him closer. Rin is desperate; washed clean, coiled tight and built of hastily strung want, fraying at every nerve end as Haru’s nails graze across his ribs.

He has to pull away to breathe; wrench himself away from Haru who is fast becoming the only tide Rin has feared so acutely, if only because he is the only tide Rin has ever _wanted_ to be swallowed by. It’s a frightening thought but he can only throw caution to the wind when he feels Haru’s lips against his throat. The touch is so hesitant, so unsure even amidst the blood singing in Rin’s ears, the thud of his pulse racing only to meet Haru’s, that all he can do is wire his fingers into the fabric of Haru’s shirt and hold on.

“Rin,” Haru says, his voice as strung out as Rin feels. “Is this supposed to happen?”

Rin swallows thickly, his throat working against Haru’s mouth. “Fuck if I know,” he grunts. And it’s not funny at all how he’s never felt so heavy with longing despite Haru being closer to him than ever before. “I never know what’s supposed to happen with you but I know that the idea of stopping is scary as fuck.”

“Okay,” Haru whispers, like a breeze whistling through the crack of a slightly opened window. “Okay,” and then he’s licking a stripe up the side of Rin’s neck, kissing his mouth when it parts on a soft gasp.

Rin manages to push Haru’s shirt up, reveling in the way his stomach twitches under Rin’s touch. The muscle there is harder than it seemed just last year and Rin can barely spare the thought to be happy about that when he feels Haru shudder as he traces his fingers up the slope of Haru’s ribs. And that’s everything that burns want into a need that curls in thick, dark plumes around the pit of Rin’s stomach, up into the cage of his chest.

He works his knee between Haru’s legs, groans aloud when he finds that Haru is already hard, his breath hitching so his chest jumps against Rin’s.

“Is that good?” Rin asks, dragging his thigh over where Haru is straining for him. And he already knows the answer but it’s worth asking for the way Haru moans, sweet and quiet and with greater command than any of Rin’s hardass coaches over the years. “Have to be the best. This has to be the best for you,” he bites out between heavy breaths.

Haru’s hips jerk in shaky upwards twitches against Rin’s thigh, his head falling to rest in the crook of Rin’s neck as his breath fans hot against Rin’s chest.

“Then—more,” he gasps, his nails digging into Rin’s shoulder blades.

Rin’s head spins, and he’s warm all the way to his toes when he shifts his leg away and reaches out to touch Haru through his pants. The stuttered breath Rin feels against his skin, the hand fluttering weakly at the band of his boxers, all serve to spur him on. He thinks he wants to break the sky open for Haru as he slips his hand under the elastic of Haru’s pants to palm his cock through his underwear. And the sound Haru makes has Rin’s breath catching, his hips pushing forward just as Haru pulls so they’re pressed against one another in a flurry of heat and nerves and frenzied heartbeats.

Haru grinds into his hand and Rin is aching with how badly he needs to get off, how badly he needs to see Haru get off. His fingers are trembling in his haste as he draws Haru’s cock into his palm, hot and heavy and slick where Rin brushes his thumb over the tip. Haru’s eyebrows crease, his bottom lip falling on sound that isn't there and Rin can only watch with bated breath, new strength coursing through his shoulders.  

“Haru,” he says, stopping to shudder with the tremor that passes through his spine when Haru’s fingers find the small of his back. “Haru, you look so good.” It’s true, he thinks, struck by the reality of the words as they leave him. Haru’s eyes are bright, electric in the dark, and his hair is mussed where Rin has had to grip it for purchase. There’s beauty in the sweep of his lashes, the slant of his collarbones and the strength in his biceps.

“So do you,” Haru says simply. Rin manages a tiny, breathless laugh as Haru slides his hand to Rin’s ass and yanks him forward. They’re pressed at the hips now and Rin’s laugh dies in his throat when Haru pulls closer and drags upwards all at once so his cock slides perfect and lethal against Rin through his boxers. This is so different to anything he’s done before, so different to anything Rin has imagined and God, he has imagined so much for so long. He chokes out a stuttered sounding moan when Haru brushes spare kisses behind his ear and tugs Rin’s boxers down so all that’s left is skin to skin and briefly, Rin wonders how it’s possible that they haven’t kindled a fire, consumed each other in flames. It takes a little while, with the combined unsteady eagerness between the two of them, to fall into a rhythm that’s not just overexcited rutting. But when they find it – a slow achy sort of grind that pulls the breath out harsh from their lungs – somehow it’s all that Rin needs whilst also being no more than a taste. It’s fitting, really; Haru has always managed to make Rin’s chest bottom out with renewed longing. He’s wondering how this could possibly feel like more than it already does when Haru takes them both in his hand, tugging loosely at Rin’s cock and Rin thinks he could cry with how good it is. Haru is everywhere, and the hollow of his throat tastes like salt when Rin touches his tongue to the dip before surging up not a moment later to drink the gasp that just barely escapes Haru’s mouth.

Haru speeds up the movement of his hand and Rin groans, low and deep, helpless to the way his hips jerk up into Haru’s touch. They have to break the kiss, Haru’s breath whistling, and all they can do is pant against each other’s mouths. There’s intimacy in that as well, and it wrecks Rin to watch Haru’s eyes – bright and dark all at once, as his grip starts to falter. Rin reaches between them to steady Haru’s fingers, so they push together on the upstroke and Rin is winded at the feeling of Haru pressed so tight against him.

Haru grunts out Rin’s name, and then says it once more in a trembling whisper; the sound falling in the air like a slow drawn exhale.

“I know, I know,” Rin says, letting the fingers of his free hand skate over Haru’s back; the touch a murmur. Haru whimpers, the breath ghosting across Rin’s lips and Rin feels himself _quiver,_ the friction between them fast becoming not enough and closer to exactly what Rin needs. And there’s so much he doesn’t know; doesn’t understand even a fraction off, but it’s enough to know this.

“Close,” Haru says. “Too close.”

There’s victory in how Haru breaks Rin apart, through the elegant line of his throat arching softly as he tips his head away from Rin, his eyes squeezed shut as his mouth opens; hips bucking before stopping altogether.

Rin watches, and it’s almost painful when the pressure gets to be too much, Haru burning so brightly in front of him that he slips out of focus just as Rin pitches forward – rises and crashes, falls and dissipates like water tempered by sand.

His chest is heaving as his lungs fight desperately for every measure of air in this room. And he wonders, dizzily, how it is that always, he and Haru are plummeting, reaching and clambering for each other when they stumble into becoming more.

 ~

After that, going back to Australia is both easier and more difficult. Easier, because Rin knows what he will return to and so much harder because with knowing comes missing; and now there is so much more he knows.

But he makes the most of it. There are things he needs to take from Australia. Eventually, he starts to feel lighter when his teammates make him laugh, welcomes the pats on the back and the ridiculous nicknames, the “ _on ya, Rin!”_ as he tears through competitions with an intensity that burns fresh every day. He makes Coach Brown proud. He shows Russell and Lori that all they did for him has not and will not amount to nothing.

Finally, he scores the qualifying times he needs for Japan’s national team.

The day before he leaves, his club mates throw a party for him and Rin is a little horrified to find he can see barely any difference between their drunk and sober states. He stays off the beer; not wanting a headache for his flight tomorrow, and laughs along with everyone through being tossed around in tight, one armed hugs.

“Rinner, Rinner, chicken dinner!” comes Lochie’s booming voice, almost giving Rin a heart attack when, laughing, he ruffles Rin’s hair.

“ _What?_ ” Rin asks, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner. You know, the expression? Rin…Win…” Lochie laughs again before he’s shoved out of the way so James can flank Rin’s side.

“We're gonna be so fucked at relays without you, Rin.”  
  
Rin chuckles, shaking his head. “Just remember not to take the team for granted. Don’t underestimate each other.”

James shoves him softly, grinning when Rin shoves back. They both look up when Isaac chimes in. “Nah, but like actual who’s gonna get us as pumped as you do?”

“Just think about the future,” Rin says, softly. Everyone goes quiet at the words.

“You’re such a wanker,” Isaac says, the words full of nothing but affection. Rin kicks him in the calf, laughing at the affronted sounding “Oi!” the gesture elicits.

“But nah yeah. The future, that’s not a bad idea. Be seeing you at the Olympics, yeah Rin? And your boyfriend too. You better not forget all about us once you get back to him.”

Rin grins, sharp and precise. “Of course.”

A distant hoot of “GET KEEN!” rings from behind them, Rin is close to matching the voice to Charlie when suddenly he is choking, enveloped in quite possibly the tightest, heaviest group hug he’s ever endured.

“Such a lad,” someone mutters to his side. Rin shakes his head, huffing out a fond little laugh. He decides for as ridiculous as this team is, as loud and occasionally obnoxious and full of bizarrely shown affection as they are, Rin will miss them; will genuinely look forward to seeing them on the international stage.

Later, when he stares at his apartment, good as new and emptied of all the belongings Rin has packed tight into a 23kg suitcase, he can already feel his lungs getting ready to adapt to new heights. He smiles and this time, he is certain that there is nothing he is leaving behind.

~

“Silicone-based lubri—“

Rin all but dives for Haru, seizing the tube and square shaped foil out of his hands. He’s cursing every force in the universe that aligned to present him this moment.

“Lube.” Haru says.

Rin winces. “Don’t say it,” he hisses. “Pretend you never saw that.”

“Lube,” Haru repeats. And then once more for good measure. “You brought lube. And condoms.”

“Oh my god.” Rin snatches his laundry from Haru, glaring at him as he does so.

“Why?”

“Fuck you,” Rin says, reaching aggressively for the fabric softener.

Haru hums. “Is that what you were planning on doing?” He asks, nonchalant as ever and Rin blanches, bowing weakly towards the washing machine.

Haru crowds him further into the cool surface, his chin coming to rest on Rin’s shoulder. “What’s the big problem?”

And fuck everything; Rin can feel his dick stirring in spite of himself. He huffs, twisting around so he’s leaning against the washing machine, face to face with Haru.

“You weren’t supposed to see it. I just thought it’d be good to try because everything has been—“ he sighs, “so good. And we hadn’t done it like that before and I wanted it to be romantic but then you had to go and—“

Haru plants his palms on either side of the machine, caging Rin, and cocks his head slightly. “It’s you. Of course it’ll be romantic,” he says, eyes wide.

Rin blushes, almost tells his cheeks to piss off and then forgets to breathe when Haru leans up to touch his lips to Rin’s.

“Even then, I don’t understand why you worry so much about romance. How romantic can things be considering you’ll be sticking your—“  
  
Rin slaps his hand over Haru’s mouth. “We can salvage this, please don’t be gr—“  
  
Haru licks his palm and Rin shrieks, wrenching his hand away to wipe on Haru’s trousers. “Gross. That was so fucking gross.”

There’s a hint of a smile tugging at Haru’s lips – the bastard.

“Do you want to?” he asks, infuriatingly collected, leaning closer still to Rin.

Rin sighs, lets his gaze follow the line of his boyfriend’s jaw, reaches to pocket the lube and condoms, and gives in.

The press of their mouths is softer than usual; Haru seemingly content with gentle closed-mouth kisses until Rin gets impatient and runs his tongue over the seam of Haru’s lips. Haru gives a sweet, pleased sounding sigh and Rin can’t help but smile into the kiss, hoisting Haru up and gripping him by the backs of his thighs while his ankles cross behind Rin, arms coming up to loop securely around Rin’s neck.

He’s trying very hard to conceal the fact that it’s more Haru’s weight than the kissing that has Rin breathless by the time they get to the bed, but he can’t help the impression that Haru knows full well and is internally laughing at him by the time Rin lays him down on the sheets.

In any case, he’s breathless for the right reasons soon. Both his and Haru’s clothes are strewn in a semi-calculated pile (even when having sex, Rin can spare a moment’s irritation at the idea of a messy room) as Rin brushes his lips down the centre of Haru’s chest. Haru’s fingers tangle in Rin’s hair, and Rin finds himself smiling against Haru’s sternum, barely scraping his teeth against the skin there and laughing softly when Haru jolts. It’s not long after when Rin finds hands at his shoulders, pushing him flat on his back and he’s spluttering as Haru drags himself over Rin.

“Rin,” Haru says, nodding as if they’ve just recognised each other on the street.

“Haru,” Rin replies, glaring daggers as he leans up to bite Haru’s jaw.

But Haru slips out of his reach just in time, stretching out to grasp the lube and condoms. He pauses for a moment, holding the items up in front of Rin. It takes a second until it dawns on Rin that he means it to be a question.

Rin raises an eyebrow. “Thought I was meant to be fucking you?”  
  
Haru shrugs. “Aren’t we fucking each other?”

Rin contemplates the words before laying a hand on Haru’s shoulder. “Alright, whatever. We’ll try it the other way round another time?

Haru hums his assent, leaning down to kiss Rin, biting at his bottom lip before drawing himself away and sliding down; sliding Rin’s thighs apart and running his fingers up the length of Rin’s cock.

“Are you sure?” he asks, settling between Rin’s legs and popping the cap of the lube open so he can coat two of his fingers.

Rin grins at him, nerves and anticipation pooling low in his stomach. “Yeah, I’m sure. I mean we’d get here eventually regardless.”

It tickles when Haru kisses the inside of his thigh; the smile the gesture pulls from him is comforting nonetheless. And he doesn’t know what he’s expecting but he doesn’t feel much of anything when Haru eases a finger inside him, slower than anything has ever been between them.

“Is it okay?” Haru asks.

Rin doesn’t know what to say. It’s just kind of cold and slick and weird. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Haru nods, frowning slightly. “Maybe if I move?”

“I think that’s the general idea.”

Gently, Haru pulls his finger back before slowly pushing forward again and repeating the motion. It goes on like that for a good thirty seconds, the sensation getting no better or worse but Haru looks so determined and Rin doesn’t know if this is more miserable or comical.

“Still nothing?” Haru asks, licking his lips as he raises his gaze briefly to Rin’s face.

“It’s not exactly good but it doesn’t feel so weird and cold now.”

“Looks pretty, at least,” Haru says softly.

Rin grimaces. “Thanks?”

Haru huffs, tugging loosely at Rin’s cock with his free hand and smiling as Rin’s thigh twitches. “It’s true.”

“Can I try adding another finger?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Rin says, shifting slightly.

This time, the stretch is a little nicer; Rin wouldn’t go as far as to say it feels pleasurable, but there is an odd sense of satisfaction that comes with it. His breath catches, just a hint, when Haru finds a steady rhythm. It goes on like that until, suddenly, Haru does _something –_ reaches further or crooks his finger, _something_ , Rin doesn’t know what – and Rin gasps, his hips canting upwards as the muscles of his stomach jump. “ _There,_ ” he hisses. “There again, Haru please, that was so—“  
  
Haru repeats the motion and with it, Rin’s mind blanks, his fingers scrambling to grip at Haru’s sheets. “Good,” he pants. “That’s really good.”

Haru keeps Rin going like that, aching with the slow slide out, burning for him to just reach that spot again. When Haru speaks, his voice comes short. “A third?”

Rin manages a breathless chuckle. “Come on, your dick isn’t that thick.”  
  
This time, Haru rubs at the spot. Rin’s stomach coils so tight he feels like a fucking slinky and his throat is raw when he answers Haru’s question properly. “Fine. Fine okay. Just go slow. Goddammit, Haru…”

Haru presses a kiss to the base of Rin’s cock, before just barely pushing a third finger in. Rin winces, and immediately Haru pulls out.

“Did it hurt?”

“No, just not as…precise or something. Do you think we could get on with it now?”

Haru bites his lip, looking up at Rin in a way that makes Rin feel dizzy with a bizarre sort of power. He runs his thumb over Haru’s mouth, slips the digit forth so it rest against Haru’s teeth. “Yeah?”

Haru nods, tearing the condom wrapper with little finesse. There’s a softness that snags at Rin’s chest when he sees that Haru’s fingers are shaking and graciously, he sits up and leans forward, closing his hands around Haru’s. “I want to do it.” He says, thinking vaguely that ‘ _let me_ ’ would not be the right words.

Haru breathes out through his teeth as Rin takes the condom, rolling it onto Haru’s length as smoothly as he can manage. When he falls back, there are nerves hooking at his gut again; but then he runs his hands down Haru’s side and breathes, remembering that they are doing this together, that they will learn and grow from this, just as it is always supposed to be with the two of them.

He hears the cap of the lube pop again and then a moment later, Haru is sliding over him, forearms coming to rest at Rin’s sides and it’s without a second thought that Rin leans up and pulls Haru down to press their foreheads together.

“This is gonna be good,” he says, with as confident a grin as he can muster. Haru jerks his head in a shaky sort of nod before he moves one arm to reach down, between them and guides himself slowly inside Rin. He stops midway and doesn’t start again until Rin relaxes and drags Haru closer to him.

Any discomfort is wearing by the time Haru has pushed in to the hilt, and neither of them are breathing until Rin shudders upwards and Haru’s head falls to Rin’s shoulder as he exhales in a threadbare sigh. Rin sweeps his fingers through Haru’s hair; exactly the gentleness that is necessary when he jerks forward once more and growls at Haru to move.

Haru does just that, moving in shaky little thrusts, his breathing laboured and it’s so hot to see him with such little command over the situation.

“Rin,”  Haru groans, low and throaty, still without much of a rhythm but now he’s pulling out further and when he snaps his hips back, Rin feels heat pool low in his belly. He digs his nails into Haru’s shoulder blades, surging up to mouth at the base of his throat. “Like that,” he grunts, smirking when Haru gasps, his fingers twitching at Rin’s hip.

And just as Haru begins to hit the spot from before, just as he manages to move in long, powerful strokes and Rin’s mouth opens to make way for a low, keening moan, his hands flexing over whatever part of Haru is closest; it’s over. Haru tenses, muscles clenched as he trembles; sweat beading at his forehead as he squeezes his eyes shut and his hips jump wildly once, twice before he comes with a whimper – deep and broken and drawn from his chest.

Rin is searing the image into his head, barely bothered about how his dick is still achingly hard as Haru pants cool against the sweat on Rin’s chest, muscles still quaking with the aftershocks.

“Hey,” Rin says, trying to run a soothing hand down Haru’s back when, boneless, Haru drifts down so his face is hovering over Rin’s thighs. The movement is so languid that Rin can’t register what is happening until Haru slides his mouth easily over Rin’s cock.

Rin curses, his back arching as he chokes out a feral sounding moan and Haru is beautiful, hair stuck to his forehead, determination in the darkness of his irises, even as drowsy-eyed as he is.

Rin sinks, and thinks how typical it is that he is already halfway to falling apart for Haru.

 ~

They both make the national team.

Haru gives him a spare set of keys and Rin laughs when he realises that the moment they take this step falls easily into sync with the moment they commit to drawing every drop they are allowed to taste from the outside world.

Their medal count grows. They tear through Nationals, the Asian Swimming championship, Pan Pacs and Worlds until suddenly, they’ve built public personalities for themselves – the country boys from Iwatobi, cool where the other is hot; just as much rivals as they are each other’s supports. There are countless times where Rin runs his fingers over Haru’s knuckles, through calls for sponsorship deals, and motivational speaking gigs. There are adoring children, there is criticism at every turn, every wall that he and Haru encounter. But through it all, they are there for each other, to hoist each other up and over those boundaries so they can crash through personal bests, sweeping back to each other in every spare moment they get.

Rin reads more books than he has in years through all the time they spend in transit. He learns to appreciate quiet at the same time that Haru learns that, sometimes, noise is what is needed to clear the air.

What never fails to catch Rin off-guard is how through it all, his friends and family stay. They are the ones to make time to accommodate him and Haru; they are the brightest source of unwavering support Rin can imagine.

He’s got constant reminders to keep warm overseas, the most genuine concern for his health and wellbeing, and a drawer full of shoddily knitted scarves from Sousuke, who is now studying to be a physiotherapist at the same university as Makoto. He recieves magical trinkets, portable sunshine and friendship bracelets from Nagisa; notes and theory and criticism born from only the most earnest of admiration from Rei; good luck texts, a backlog of hoarse cheering and sleepy 5am smiles from Makoto.

He doesn’t refute Gou when she calls him a fool. Instead of catching fireflies, he shines reading lights on post-midnight homework, tucks her in when she doesn’t know it, kisses the side of her forehead and digs cold toes into her calves in the wintertime; he does his best not to cry when he sees that with each trip to the airport, she grows a little better at containing her emotions.

He pretends he could never find what his mum mixes in with the laundry so that during trips to Iwatobi, bag overflowing with silks and cashmere for her, he may pull up a stool and speak with her as she hangs garments out to dry on the balcony.

The media doesn’t know a thing about them. Sometimes Rin thinks that maybe it’s better that way; an institution so flighty could never grasp the way his friends and family keep him grounded. They are the ones to push Rin and Haru so that they can best push each other.

He knows right to the roots of his being that unconditionally, they believe in his place among them. And that’s a good half of the reason why he is always pushing to become more.

~

They blaze through the trials for the Tokyo 2020 Olympics; Haru qualifying for the 100m freestyle while Rin breezes into being a frontrunner for the 200m butterfly. They both make the 200m freestyle as well as the 4x100 medley relay.

Rin doesn’t know what to do with himself. He alternates between extreme gratitude and sweeping confidence. He tries his hardest to maintain belief in himself, because so much of what has gotten him to this point has been faith – whether from himself or from others – in the notion that he could achieve whatever he might reach for.

On their last night in their hotel room, Haru moves straight for the bathroom. Rin hears the faucets turn and the steady stream of the shower. When this goes on for much longer than usual, he swallows caution and cracks the door open to find Haru sitting on the tiles, head tilted to the glass door.

He’s still got his official lanyard around his neck, his jacket unzipped, red and white and perfect on him. He looks up when Rin enters, but he doesn’t tell him to go away and when Rin crouches in front of him, his eyes are warm. Rin turns and through the fog of the shower screen he finds their roots; “ _For the team”_ spelt clearly in Haru’s neat hand.

“I came here to think. The sound of the water helps,” Haru says, looking down at the tiles.

Rin reaches to press his hands to either side of Haru’s face, his knees coming to touch Haru’s folded legs.

“Don’t doubt this, Rin,” Haru says, quietly. “You’ve never been meant for ordinary things…”

Rin feels his eyes prickle as he tries to swallow around the newfound lump in his throat. He is firm but gentle when he drags the jacket off Haru’s shoulders, tugs the shirt over his head and then pulls him up by his hand to make steady work of the knot at Haru’s track pants. His hands are just strong enough to draw his chest tight with gratitude at the assurance that this is where the two of them are.

“What are you thinking?” Rin asks, as Haru steps out of his pants.

Rin’s undressed himself as well by the time Haru’s fingers close around his wrists.

When Rin looks up, Haru’s gaze is so intense, it makes Rin feel like he’s been swept to the outskirts of the Earth.

“We’re going to win,” Haru says, simply. And his eyes are shining, cool and opaque and bright as the scattered reflection of a supernova on the ocean’s surface.

Rin is breathless, functioning on the frequency of crooned love songs and whispered intimacy when he walks Haru into the shower. They wash each other’s hair, Haru skims his lips over bubbles caught on Rin’s cheekbone as Rin tastes the water falling in rivulets over the hard, elegant line of Haru’s shoulder. Their hands are aimless as they reach for each other; anywhere that strikes their fancy. Rin drums his fingers against Haru’s heartbeat and smiles softly when he realises this is one of the million and one ways he has felt struck by love in all its many forms throughout his life.

Later, they fall into bed naked, Rin pinning Haru’s hands above his head when he slides steadily into him; leaning down to steal Haru’s breath so that he might taste just a fragment of the love Rin feels in his chest. 

And Rin is so set on making it flow both ways, on knowing that Haru realises that the burn Rin feels is a sweet one and he wouldn’t swap it for the world.

Though really, in ways Haru has always been the one to show Rin the world in the first place.

So he pushes and pulls, takes and gives as slow and measured as he possibly can. And it’s perfect even as he leans down to whisper in Haru’s ear that this is one thing he will concede to Haru always being faster than him at. It’s perfect because Haru grips Rin by the hips and pulls him deeper so that it’s all Rin can do to gasp, the column of his throat elongated as he throws his head back. Haru surges up to kiss Rin’s Adam’s apple, ghosting his lips up the line of Rin’s throat so he can kiss the edge of Rin’s jaw, if only to key him up when, smooth as the gold that leaks from the setting sun, he asks Rin if he’d like to turn that into a bet.

Rin doesn’t answer, instead driving into Haru and kissing him deep and thorough so he melts back against the mattress. Rin doesn’t answer because he thinks there’s no point placing bets when every competition between the two of them is just as much a loss as it is a win.

They hold on tightly, the salt of sweat finding soap, and they take their time; wrecking each other, if only to watch one another rise, more blinding than before.

~

By the time of the relay, both Rin and Haru are already officially Olympic medalists. Rin manages silver in the 200m fly, where Haru sweeps up one silver for the 100m free and one bronze for the 200m. Rin slips behind Haru by milliseconds in the 200m, coming in fourth but all he can feel is the most intense swelling of pride when Haru looks at him after the race with the utmost gratitude, like the number is made meaningful because it was with Rin that he scored it.

But the relay is different; sparking the exact energy Rin will always treasure. And there’s an underlying knowledge between Haru and him, without saying a word, that this matters beyond what they can articulate. This is where their history lies; this is where they will gladly build upon what they have already fought tooth and nail for.

His teammates pull into a huddle, Haru’s hand held firmly in Rin’s, as they each try to plant every hope, every prayer, every remnant of luck in the home soil under their feet.

They’re coming third when Rin braces himself on the starting block. His heart is racing; Rei’s calculations ringing distantly against the thrum of Rin’s natural instincts when he watches Kitajima gain ground after his turn, until he’s pulled into first. Rin bends his knees, fingers on the edge of the block as he tracks Kitajima sweeping through the water to thrust forth, reaching on the tail end of his insweep and—

Rin dives, body automatically elongating into streamline position and then the water takes him and he glides with it. His heart rises, sending him forward with powerful dolphin kicks and the stretch of his arms as he pulls the water towards his body before pushing it behind him is a kind of home in itself. It makes sense what with how many years he has invested in committing to the movement like it is breathing.

He doesn’t know what’s going on behind him, doesn’t care, the world narrowing into his lane and Rin only knows that the water behind his feet isn’t meant for him; the only place to move is forward, and he will tear through the water to know how the air in front of him tastes.

His turn is immaculate and when he breaks the surface of the water, he feels like it weighs nothing with how easily his arms slice up through its depths. The world extends; he remembers his team, he remembers the crowd, and he pushes harder. He thinks of Haru watching him, waiting for him in the same way that Rin will soon be doing and it’s the most natural response when Rin finds himself grinning, pulling with more force. The water will carry him forth, the water will carry him to victory and to Haru and to everywhere else he needs to be if he gives it every drop of strength he has in him.  He speeds up, his muscles aching in the best possible way and it’s all over too fast when both his hands press flat against the wall. He’s just in time to look up to see Haru’s entry, and his breath catches in his throat when Haru breaches the water, the easy upsweep, downsweep of his alternating arms mesmerising in its effortlessness.

His legs feel like jelly when he climbs out of the pool to join Kitajima and Hashimoto; the solid ground seeming to tremble under him.

He swears that a hush falls over the universe as he watches Haru, the light drawn to him, pulsing outwards from the power of every one of his clean, crisp movements.

And then he feels his voice push out from deep in his chest into a clambering shout of Haru’s name. The sound of the crowd rushes back to him with it. Haru gains momentum, still gliding even as he powers through the water and Rin feels tears slide hot and wet down his cheeks at the sight. He cheers until his voice is hoarse, joining the sounds of his teammates, the audience.

There’s a final burst of energy from Haru where it’s as if the water breathes for him; propelling him as his arms whip forward like windmills. He’s so far in front of every other swimmer and that fact hardly occurs to Rin; too lost to watching Haru drive forward, faster and harder until he’s _right there_ , fingers stretching as he slams his hand to the wall and Rin’s ears seem to block like he’s submerged underwater.

There’s a moment, less than a second of silence, until the pin drops and the Japanese team is rushing to haul Haru up and out of the pool. Rin is crying, burying his face into the crook of Haru’s neck, heedless of the water and the scent of chlorine as Kitajima lays a hand to Rin’s back in short, rapid little pats. Hashimoto grips Haru’s forearms, laughing easily, his eyes watering as well when Rin raises his head to see half the crowd wild and on their feet and the tears start afresh.

Gold. _Gold._ Rin swears the top of the stadium cracks apart and the sun lurches forward to pour light against everything it can touch.

Haru is smiling when Rin turns to him.

~

There are few things simultaneously more surreal and more believable to Rin than standing in line with the National Japanese medley relay team at the Olympic award ceremony.

Standing on the centre podium, knowing that he is a part of the National Japanese medley relay team, and awaiting a gold medal definitely ranks higher.

One by one his teammates bow to have the medal draped around their necks. Rin almost jerks; expecting it to be lighter than it is, and when he thanks the medal bearer he can’t help but give him a wide, full-toothed grin.

Next come the flowers, and it’s tricky with how hard his fingers are quivering to maneuver so that he can grasp Haru’s hand, clasping it tight and raising it between them, while also trying to showcase his medal and keep hold of his flowers.

But he manages and the cameras flash and he wants to see whether or not Haru is smiling so badly. He goes with his gut and tells himself that, yes, Haru is.

The medal is heavy in his hand and he’s so happy to be twining his fingers with Haru’s. When everyone pulls away from each other’s grip, Rin almost chases the contact but then _Kimigayo_ starts to play and he’s gasping, scrambling to lay his hand to his chest. He’s never sung it so loud, so messily in his life. His heart is thudding desperate in his chest but he doesn’t forget the words, even as he looks towards the crowd and sees more Japanese flags than ever before in his life; a sea of people proud of him with no knowledge of all he has fought, all he has gained on his way to this moment.

He almost passes out with embarrassment when he spots possibly the hugest banner he’s ever seen in his life. The size wouldn’t so much be an issue if it weren’t for the fact that it is a horribly pixelated print of both Haru and Rin’s faces. He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry or scream when he tracks the banner in a downwards slope to none other than Hazuki Nagisa and Ryugazaki Rei. To their side he finds his mother between Gou and Sousuke, each of them holding one of her hands. And to Sousuke’s side is Makoto, on the edge of his seat, gripping a handful of the fabric of Sousuke’s sleeve and _okay,_ Rin just about faints when he sees Kisumi running his fingers up and down the slope of Makoto’s collarbone to the line of his shoulder, poised like he’s dusting powdered sugar onto Makoto’s skin and _seriously, when did that happen?_

But he’s so happy, he’s so grateful to see each of their faces at this moment. The sight makes his throat raw and his eyes wet but it’s exactly what he needs to grin around the words in his mouth. Subtly, Haru knocks his shoulder to Rin’s and if Rin listens hard enough, he can hear Haru singing as well.

Rin doesn’t know what he expected winning gold to feel like, but from his friends and family in the stands to Haru’s presence besides him, the weight of Rin’s hand pressed to his chest and the medal hung from his neck; this is everything.

~

Gou and his mother make it to Rin as fast as possible. His phone has been buzzing like wild with congratulatory texts from everyone, save for Sousuke who tells him he looked like a nerd before sending a postscript request for Steffen Deibler’s autograph, followed by a post-postscript text telling Rin to remember to acquire it in a non-embarrassing, cool way. 

He still feels like he’s floating when he texts Sousuke back with a short, sharp sweet _fuck off_ and it’s hard not to smile when he can imagine the low chuckle Sousuke might give at the sight. Slowly, he makes his way through every other text; reading and rereading and touching his fingers to his pounding heart when he worries it might burst forth with all the pride and love it’s been fed.

He almost chokes when suddenly, two bodies barrel into him and he turns to see his mum and his sister, awestruck and smiling like they’ve just witnessed a meteor shower.

He hugs them both, clutches them towards him, strokes their hair – the same red as Rin’s – when he hears them sniff and feels faint wetness press into the cotton of his shirt. His mum looks up at him when she has composed herself, her eyes still shining with emotion, and tells him that his father would be so, _so_ proud.

Rin gives her a watery smile; the ceiling in the stadium is made of skylights and so it’s hard not to believe the sentiment. She reaches to card her fingers through Rin’s hair, and he indulges her; leaning into the touch and not putting up any protest beyond a weak grunt when she calls him her baby boy and drags him down to kiss his forehead.

“How’d the two of you even get in here?” He asks.

“Matsuokas do not take ‘no’ for an answer. And mothers are a force to be reckoned with,” she says, grinning in the same wild sort of way Rin has learned people associate with himself.

She steps away then, smiling when Gou wraps her arms around Rin and squeezes so hard Rin thinks she might break something.

“You training to make it to the next olympic weightlifting competition?” He manages to choke out, patting Gou on the head.

“Nah, I’m only here to appraise the goods,” she says. And then she laughs, the silvery laugh that Rin would tickle her baby feet to hear so many years back. He doesn’t think twice when he lifts her up to whizz her around in a circle off the ground, just so he can feel like the strongest person in the world when she shrieks. He wonders if she remembers how he used to do that all the time when they were children – with little success because a year’s gap meant a pretty meagre difference in weight back then. Now it’s easy; now his mother doesn’t scold him for dropping Gou because he sets her effortlessly back down and there are no grazes on her knees for Rin to smooth bandaids over.

“I knew you could do it,” she says and Rin’s chest constricts. “There’s no other big brother in the world I could be more proud of and I knew you could do it.”  
  
“Thank you,” he says, because it’s long overdue and it’s worth not holding the words to his chest to see Gou light up.

~

Back in the Olympic village, Haru sneaks into Rin’s room so the two of them can see how their packed bags look side-by-side.

When Rin grins, Haru holds his hand out. And there’s not a moment’s hesitation when Rin high-fives him. The sting is perfect and Rin tangles their fingers to tug Haru forward in one easy motion. Their medals are heavy between them when their lips brush.

“Let’s do it again in 2024?” Rin says, smirking lopsided and brighter than the lights pulsing outside for the after party.

Haru smiles, a tiny, secretive curve of his lips, and pulls Rin even closer.

Rin feels the weight of two medals and a second heartbeat against his chest. Rin breathes and he takes and with Haru right there with him, everything falls into its right place.

He stretches, and the ache is a welcome one as he poises himself for new flight.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you're interested in that sort of stuff this fic was written to copious amounts of music by arctic monkeys as well as the smith street band. this [EP](http://thesmithstreetband.bandcamp.com/album/dont-fuck-with-our-dreams) in particular makes me very, _very_ emotional about rin!


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